In Plain Sight
by WishesAndStars
Summary: After OGSY, Cammie realizes there's only one way to avoid detection by her sisters. But can she avoid her past?
1. Brand New Me

When I first wrote the letter, it felt like a dream, a strange reality I couldn't wake up from. Now I know it's a nightmare.

It's been a year and a half since I left the Gallagher Academy, and my family, behind. For months I hid in dark alleys, abandoned buildings, and, once a widow's attic.

I, being naturally curious, rummaged through the box labeled photos. Children blowing out candles, a pinic by the lakeshore, a new puppy bumbling over large paws. Reaching the bottom of the cardboard box, I pulled a packet from under the loosened flap. Charles.

I handled the envelope cautiously, like it was rigged to blow (which it totally could be). I held the photo, staring down at the smiling girl in the gazebo, a boy had his arm curled around her waist, pulling her close to him. The look on his face, he loved this girl. This boy, Charles, wanted to be with her for the rest of his life, no matter how long that was. For a moment, I felt loved. A warm feeling tumbled inside my belly as I focused on his features.

He looked like Zach.

My stomach dropped out from under me, and I thrust my hand out to catch me. The box upon which it hand landed, fell from the stack with a resounding crash. Crap, crap, crap. I was sloppy. The time to leave had long passed.

Soon after my unfortunate incident, I realized I could not go on hiding like this. I was the Chameleon, for Gilly's sake! So, I did what I did best. I hid in plain sight.

The hair dye cost $3.75. I spent the night snatching the cutest clothes I could find off of people's laundry lines, tacking apology notes to the sheets (Madame Dabney would have me by the ear if I didn't). by morning, I had my best cover yet, I wasn't Cammie the Chameleon anymore. I wasn't destined to walk the halls, unseen by boys, teachers, and others. I had gone against the Subject's behavioral patterns with no abandon.

Walking down the halls, Cammie would've been unnerved and out of place. It's a good thing I wasn't Cammie. With my chin held high, I clung to the most extensive cover I have ever had. My chestnut brown hair fell gently on my shoulders, the curls bouncing as I strode quickly through the hallways meeting everyone's eyes. Macey would have been proud. The sunshine streaming through the skylights caught the bronze and golden highlights in my hair, making it gleam like the bronze sculpture of Amelia Earhart that I restored after discovering it in a hallway that branched off of a passageway I used to get to the P&E barn.

High class was an understatement. The Vermont Academy for Bettering the Youth of America, was to say the least impressive. The students here were hand picked, and taken from some of the best families in the country. In recent years, the board had taken it upon themselves to uphold charity scholarships to the brightest minds in the country (Technically, second brightest girls. If they were good, they were at Gallagher).

It took me a full three minutes to hack into the system and put my name on the rosters. Advancement in technology was definitely a priority here. Liz would've been into the system in 20 seconds, for a school, this was amazing.

I reached my first class of the day, French 2, as the bell rung, stepping inside as the door began to close. The teacher, Madame Foster, glared. I smiled innocently and took a seat.

Smiling back, she announced my presence to the class, as if they hadn't already noticed me, "Darling, You seem to be a new student to the juniors level class, would you like to say a few words about yourself?"

I stilled, information, they wanted my cover, "Umm, My name-"

Madame Foster cut me off before I could get it out, "Do stand up, Dear, so we can all get a good look at you."

"Yes, Madame Foster," I stood. Thoughts rushed through my head. I previously attended The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women, I could say, 'Do you know where the nuclear weapons are stored?' in fourteen different languages, I shouldn't be here. . . I stopped myself, that wasn't me. That was Cammie. I needed to focus.

"Dear?" Ms. Foster said in a light, menacing tone, "Do continue"

The other students laughed, I was a fool to them, another rich girl who bought her way into the school with her parent's money, " Je m'appelle est Taylor Triste."

I was interupted again as a student in the back quipped, " We don't speak Chinese, Lee!". The class laughed again. These people were supposed to be my peers? Equal in intelligence?

Taylor – I – didn't take crap from anyone, especially not the below average mind of some sycophant, " French, you dolt. I would have guessed that a school as impressive as this one would have a good language program, yes? Or do you have to take," I lowered my voice to a stage whisper, " The_ special_ classes?"

The classroom burst into laughter, even Madame Foster managed a small smile, " You can take your seat Taylor."

A couple boys stretched back, rubbing their chests, then patting the seat in front of them. I gave them all an apologetic smile, and sat in the back corner, next to the boy who had his head down throughout my entire introduction spectacle. As I sat, he turned his head away from me. He had an athletic build and wavy hair that looked like it needed a cut.

Feeling spontaneous, I reached out and tapped him on the shoulder, directing his attention to me instead of his arms (Although, they were pretty nice arms). He sighed, and pulled his head up, not facing me, "Listen, I don't want to talk to you, my girlfriend back home gets pretty jealous."

The boy in front of me spun in his chair, grinning towards his friend, "Josh, you need to let that chick go. Your missing what's right in front of you, or technically speaking, next to you."

He turned to me, "I'd be delighted to show you around campus, Miss Triste. Call me anytime."

I laughed, genuinely smiling, "Sure thing . . ." "Nick. Nick Taylor."

I once again turned to look at my neighbors profile, withholding a gasp as I recognized him, "I didn't think Dee Dee was the jealous type."


	2. Nightmares

I walked down the halls, Josh by my side, laughing as recounted all the tales from our miserable past. His hair glittered in the sunlight, his eyes catching mine. I stopped a moment, looking into them.

"I've missed you, Cammie," There was a reverent tone in his voice, like he would do anything and everything for me.

I tried to smile, to say something. Each time I tried, my throat would dry up and I couldn't breath.

"Cammie? Didn't you miss me?" Josh's voice filled with worry, glancing over my panicked expression.

I spun, trying to figure out the source of my speechlessness. Splaying my fingers over my body, I found the answer. On my lower back was a patch, quite like the napotine patches Dr. Fibbs invented. I stared down the hall into the brilliant sunlight, as a silhouetted figure approached. As he drew closer, it was a he, a familiar nagging tugged at my brain, but didn't realize who I was seeing until it was too late.

"You left me, for him?" The question was full of condescension, loathing, "For Josh."

The first time he said Josh's name, defeat laced across his face, not matched by his angry tone. His right arm had several cuts, and a blood leaked from a bullet hole above his heart, "I told you I'd die for you, Cammie. I just never thought it would hurt this much."

I fell upon the boy who owned my heart, and prayed that he would give me his and I would be bleeding profusely instead. I sobbed uncontrollably, screaming his name. This wasn't right, this can't be right. Zach is dead.

Zach is dead.

Zach is dead.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, and lifted myself to my knees, to see him one last time. He looked bigger than I remembered, more filled out. His hair was a plain brown, like my own, I looked into his eyes. Such unmemorable eyes.

"Daddy?"

I whipped my head up to look at Josh, who was holding a gun, his smile surprising feminine, "We'll always find you Cammie. You can't run you can't hide. Predators don't lose their prize, not mine at least."

Josh's face melted away revealing the woman from Boston, Zach's mother. I screamed as she pressed the gun to my head and pulled the trigger.

"Shut the fuck up!" My roommate squealed, angry that I disturbed her beauty sleep. I laid my head on the pillow and sobbed my troubles away.


End file.
